Fada has not been able to achieve its own native arts or the characteristic beauty of its country. There are no flowering trees or irrigated gardens; no painted or molded courtyard walls.
The young boys, full of curiosity and enterprise, grow quickly
into old, anxious men, content with mere existence. Peace has been brought
to them, but no glory of living; some elementary court-justice, but no glory
of living; some elementary court-justice, but no liberty of mind. An English
child in Fada, with eyes that still see what is in front of them, would
be terrified by the dirt, the stinks, the great sores on naked bodies, the
twisted limbs, the babies with their enormous swollen stomachs and their
hernias; the whole place, flattened upon the earth like the scab of a wound,
would strike it as something between a prison and a hospital. But to Celia
it is simply a native town. It has been labeled for her, in a dozen magazines
and snapshots, long before she comes to it. Therefore she does not see it
at all. She does not see the truth of its real being, but the romance of
her ideas, and it seems to her like the house of the unspoiled primitive,
the simple dwelling-place of unsophisticated virtue.
A comment before my review: After reviewing The
Village of Waiting, I received the following letter from a visitor to
my page:
....I just had to send you some mail to voice my frustration with
the consistently unsympathetic, intolerant, and condescending tone that
almost every Togo RPCV I've ever met has taken to George Packer's book.
While I agree that my vision of Togo would be nothing like George Packer's,
I'm also willing to admit that on some days, it was. Every volunteer, just
like every other person in the world, has days or weeks when lots of things
seem annoying, when cultural differences are not just confusing, but completely
disorienting. I really wish that people would allow George Packer the space
to experience Togo in his own way, instead of immediately dismissing his
view because he was just a wimp that ETd. I always thought that Peace Corps
volunteers were supposed to be more tolerant than that. And I can't believe
that any RPCV who's honest with themselves won't admit that on at least
one occasion, they found the food unappetizing, their host country counterparts
or neighbors incomprehensible, and that constant "Yovo, Yovo, Bonsoir"
song from the children unbelievably annoying. I've grown to believe that
the immediately hostile reaction to the book is an indication that "real
volunteers" don't admit having those feelings and therefore have to
attack anyone who says that they do. If you read the book objectively and
move past Packer's admittedly negative personal disposition, there is a
lot of truth to it.
Here's how I responded:
.... I appreciate your note (really!) even though you don't agree with me....
I guess what I would say is that Packer has every right to have had a bad
time in Togo and to write with skill a book about his negative impression
of the country and his stay.... but by the same token, I have every right
to dislike his book, and to find it whiney and lacking in perspective.
May I have your permission to post your note to my page? It would be fun
to start a dialogue on the subject. Your choice as to whether I give your
name and email address.
Thanks again! Always nice to hear from visitors to my page, even if they
don't agree with me. (By the way, as to me not liking it because it has
negative things to say about Togo.... just wait until you see next month's
Review of the Month!)
Well, I never heard back from my correspondant, but I guess I can honorably
post the letter as long as I don't pass out any names. Anyway, Mister
Johnson, as you can see from the quote above, can be brutal in its description
of African life. However, I love this book.... it's one of my all time favorite
books about Africa. It's tough without being whiney, and brilliantly critical
in its description of both the Africans and the British colonizers who try
to impose their culture on them.
The story takes place in Nigeria, during the British colonial period. The
title character is an African clerk, with an outrageous personality. He
is not meant to be a typical African in any sense: he both charms
and scandalizes nearly everyone who gets to know him, both British and African.
The one similarity the author (in an afterward) sees between Johnson and
other Africans is his warmheartedness.... his readiness for friendship
on the smallest encouragement.
I don't want to spend too much time on this review, so let me just say this:
read this book. I can't promise you you'll approve of the writer's 1939
consciousness (that's when the book was written), but I can just about guarantee
that he'll introduce you to a character whom you will never forget. I give
it: ***½ (out of ****)
This book may well be available at your local library; or you can order
if from Amazon
Books Online for about $8 plus $4 shipping.
By the way, this book was made into a movie that I quite enjoyed, and that
captured the spirit of the title character quite well. It was directed by
Bruce Beresford, of Driving Miss Daisy fame, and stars Maynard Eziashi,
Pierce Brosnan (yes, that Pierce Brosnan), and Edward Woodward. Here's
what Roger Ebert said about the film .... What they are doing here
is quiet and rather tricky. They're not banging the audience over the head
with the injustice of what happens to Johnson, but trying to re-create a
moment in colonial history when many people, both white and black, believed
in the rhetoric of official idealism, even while it was rotting from within.
The result is a very subtle film, one where the ideas are sometimes in danger
of being overwhelmed by the sheer exuberence of Eaiashi's performance....
The movie, like the Cary novel, allows us to find its truth in our own way.
If you really want to see it and can't find it at your local video rental
store, send me an email; I have a copy
I'll lend for free for a month, provided you pay shipping ($3 each way)
and send me a deposit to keep if you don't return it.